I am a vagabondish soul,
lugged about in a knapsack
— of breathful dust;
restless feet beneath it
— plodding,
—– plodding,
——– plodding,
over this cramped space ball,

wanting something
—– bigger,
——– truer,
———– more eternal,
than is here.

It’s a somewhere,
it’s a city,
it’s a Someone living there,

and the soul tramp
—- looks
—– and
——————————— wanders
— aimlessly
and hopes to find.

Do not say that it should settle
In a quiet little space,
For until it finds the city,
It will pace, and pace, and pace;

Up
— and
—– Down
this tiny planet,
until the dusty, fragile knapsack
———– falls
——————————————— apart,
setting the vagabond
————————————————– free.

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Krislyn Shank is happily living in inner-city Philly and loves sharing the gospel there.